


With Any Luck

by Laylah



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-02
Updated: 2007-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what feels like hours but is probably, if Demyx is being fair, less than ten minutes, Luxord gets to a good enough stopping place to put down his book. He reaches out with one hand, and Demyx crawls over, curling up with his head in Luxord's lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Any Luck

Most of the Castle That Never Was is cold, drafty, spooky in ways that suit its name all too well. Even without the Dusks constantly slithering around the place, disappearing around corners almost too fast to be seen, it's creepy. So it's nice that Demyx has gotten himself a standing invitation to one of the few exceptions to the rule.

He closes the door behind him, remembering to catch it this time before it slams, and relaxes into the warm air. He unzips his robe and hangs it up on the hook beside the door, then strips off his gloves and undershirt, folds them, and leaves them on the table. If he wants to be allowed to keep doing this, he has to follow the rules. His boots go next, under the table out of the way with his socks tucked into them so he'll be able to find them again, and then his pants and underwear, folded neatly and left beside his shirt.

Once he's naked, he pads across the room to the couch, sitting at the far end of it to wait quietly. That's hard -- Demyx has never been good at holding still; he thinks he remembers not liking it even when he was human -- but it's not actually unpleasant. Not like the way some of the others treat him when he tries to get this much attention out of them. He tries to keep himself occupied with appreciating the little almost-human touches to the place: there's still a lot of black and white in here, but there's red, too, which is nice, and at least there's carpet and the couch has _texture_ to it....

After what feels like hours but is probably, if Demyx is being fair, less than ten minutes, Luxord gets to a good enough stopping place to put down his book. He reaches out with one hand, and Demyx crawls over, curling up with his head in Luxord's lap.

"How did it go?" Luxord asks, running a gloved hand down Demyx's side, petting him slowly.

"Like I said before," Demyx mumbles. "I was totally the wrong guy for the job. That kid's like -- he's pretty intense."

Luxord hums thoughtfully, fingertips tracing the curve of Demyx's ear. "Shouldn't come as any surprise," he says. "After all, you've seen what Roxas was like."

"I know," Demyx says. He doesn't really want to get lectured on the odds of the keyblade bearer's behavior being...whatever, though. So he tries changing the subject: "How was the Meeting That Never Was?"

It works; Luxord laughs shortly, brushing Demyx's hair back from his face and stroking the line of his jaw. "We should be so lucky. This was more like the Assembly of Eternal Posturing."

Demyx smiles wryly, nuzzling at the folds of Luxord's robe. He might have been out getting thrashed, but at least he wasn't being _bored_. "So I didn't miss much, huh?"

"I'd say the probability was very high," Luxord says, and it sounds like he's smiling too, "that you wouldn't have been interested in anything our Superior had to say."

"Blah blah Kingdom Hearts blah blah time drawing near?" Honestly, Demyx doesn't really give a damn about the master plan. He can remember what it was like to write music that actually _worked_, music that sounded good and meaningful and _cool_, and he can't seem to do it anymore, which he figures must mean he needs a heart to get it right. That's his reason. No clue what some of the others want their hearts back for -- maybe Luxord could give him the odds on what they would do with them.

"Indeed. Very much like that." Luxord is stroking the sensitive spot behind his ear now, and Demyx squirms on the couch, purring. He doesn't have to be a master of statistics to know how likely it is that his evening's about to get better.

Luxord reaches down and tugs on the bottom zipper of his robe, pulling it up smoothly. Demyx watches as Luxord goes on to unbutton his trousers, folding the soft fabric back to expose his cock. The first time they did this, Demyx was shocked silent for a minute at the heavy steel ring in the head of Luxord's cock -- now it's just one more thing to play with, one more reason to like it here.

Demyx leans down and licks his way up the shaft of Luxord's cock -- he doesn't need to be told anymore that he'd better appreciate it when it's offered to him. He runs his tongue over the head, takes the ring in his teeth and tugs gently. Luxord wraps a hand around the back of his neck and Demyx surrenders, lets himself be pushed down on Luxord's cock until he has to swallow or choke. Luxord doesn't hold him there; the hand on his neck is a reminder but it's not forceful, as long as Demyx doesn't try to stop.

"Do you want to sit in my lap?" Luxord asks, his hand moving, fingertips trailing down Demyx's spine. The leather of his gloves is so smooth it makes Demyx shiver, arching up into the touch as Luxord cups his ass in one possessive hand. Demyx moans around the shaft of Luxord's cock, rocking his hips in answer -- he doesn't dare lift his head, because the last time he stopped sucking Luxord's cock without permission, he didn't get to come at all that night.

"Good boy," Luxord says, and Demyx's cock twitches at the praise. "Here." He presses a bottle into Demyx's hand, and Demyx fumbles it open, trying to keep his rhythm going. He's _terrible_ at this kind of thing, nowhere near coordinated enough, and it's almost a relief when Luxord takes a firm grip on his hair and starts thrusting -- at least then all he has to worry about is slicking his fingers and getting them up his ass. Of course, he's more likely to choke, with Luxord holding him down like this, but that's still kind of hot, the hard steel of the ring brushing the back of his throat.

He's got three slick fingers up his ass, fucking himself on them as best he can, when Luxord pulls him up. His mouth feels tender, his lips swollen, the taste of precome bitter on his tongue, and he's so hard it hurts.

"You want to ride my cock?" Luxord purrs, his grip on Demyx's hair just tight enough to hurt.

"Yes," Demyx moans. "Yes, please."

Luxord lets go of him, and he scrambles up, awkward and impatient, to straddle Luxord's hips, squirming, reaching down to brace himself -- and pushing, feeling the thickness of Luxord's cock split him open and the brutal hardness of the ring against delicate flesh.

"Ah," Demyx says, almost breathless, "ah, _fuck_, daddy, yeah, you're so big, it's just what I need, just like that," and he leans back a little, because he gets a really good angle like this and they both like it when Luxord watches him fuck himself. "Is it good for you? Do I look pretty?"

"You know you do," Luxord says, running his hands down Demyx's sides. He hasn't taken his gloves off. He almost never does. "You always look pretty, and you look best like this."

Demyx purrs, drunk on the attention and the stretch and slide of Luxord's cock in his ass. "Want to come for you, daddy, want to come on your cock like this -- want to touch my cock so bad."

Luxord makes a little reproving noise, his hands tightening around Demyx's hips to pull him down harder. "Any boy of mine should have better manners than that," he says, his voice almost steady even with his cock buried balls-deep in Demyx's ass.

"I'm sorry," Demyx says, hoping that if it sounds like he means it then he'll still be allowed to get off. He's not supposed to make demands, just ask permission: "I'm sorry, daddy, I won't do it again -- please, may I touch my cock?"

"Much better," Luxord says, and Demyx shivers a little at the approving tone. "Go ahead. Show me how much you like it."

Demyx reaches down and slides a hand around his cock, making a show of it, moaning and arching his back. He's _always_ been good with an audience, and Luxord watches him just the way he likes it, hungry and focused and really paying attention. "Ah, daddy, you're so good to me, feels so good the way you fuck me, so good --" He'd better not push his luck by asking to come, not this soon after almost messing up, so he quits trying to talk and just moans, rocking on Luxord's cock and trying to hold off until he has permission to come.

And it shouldn't take long, at least he hopes it won't -- Luxord is thrusting in hard and steady, holding tight to Demyx's hips, his breathing growing ragged. "You like it that much -- are you going to come for me?"

Demyx nods frantically. "Please, daddy, may I? It feels so good."

"Yes," Luxord says, and it sounds like a _command_ the way he says it. "Come now," and Demyx leans back a little further and strokes himself hard, once, twice, three times, coming with a little sob and trying to catch the mess in his hand so he doesn't ruin Luxord's robes -- and Luxord takes hold of his wrist and lifts his hand to his mouth, so Demyx opens his mouth like a good boy and licks his own come off his fingers while Luxord fucks him hard and fast and then finishes with a low growl, his cock pulsing in Demyx's ass and the thrill of being good enough is almost like coming again.

He's always shaky afterward, even more than he used to be after shows, but he tries to hold it together, because one of the _really_ cool things about doing this with Luxord instead of one of the others is that he probably won't get kicked out now, as long as he doesn't screw up.

"Go start the shower?" Luxord says, and it sounds almost like a question, a polite request, his hand sliding from Demyx's hip down the outside of his thigh.

"Of course," Demyx says, easing off Luxord's cock and only staggering a little bit as he gets to his feet. It isn't a question, any more than _are you going to come for me?_ was a question; it's one of the things Demyx just has to do, if he wants to stay here.

And he _does_ want to stay -- it's better here than the rest of the castle. He makes his way to the bathroom, just a little awkward, and turns the water on. It's usually too cool, pretty much anywhere in the castle, but water is one of the things Demyx is actually good with, and he makes it warm enough to be comfortable. In a minute, Luxord will come join him, and Demyx will wash him clean and probably Luxord will pet him some more, and maybe tell him he was good. They'll get out of the shower and Luxord will get dressed again, and if he's quiet and not obnoxious about it Demyx will be allowed to play his sitar for a while, and see if he can't get the music to work a little better now. Luxord might deal in chance and probability for his specialties, but he seems to appreciate certainty all the more for it.

So they'll settle into the little routine Luxord has built for them, and with any luck -- maybe he can ask to borrow some -- Demyx won't have to go face off against the kid with the keyblade again for a nice long time.


End file.
